


truth or drink

by lovages



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, One-Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:15:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24067216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovages/pseuds/lovages
Summary: “It’s a video. And it’s so Charlie and I can pass our film class.” Sam finally emerges from behind one of the cameras. “Dean, I already explained this to you. There’s about thirty questions. You take turns with Cas, asking them to each other. If either of you don’t want to answer them, take a shot.”
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 19
Kudos: 135





	truth or drink

“So… what do you want to drink? We have tequila, but it's not patron. Jim beam, and this really cheap vodka, and– oh, I could run back to my apartment and get the moonshine my roommate brewed.” 

Dean sighs, forcing himself to focus on Charlie’s bright, cheery rambling. He rubs his palm on his thigh, then pinches the front of his shirt to fan himself. A bead of sweat trickles down his back. Why did he agree to this, again? 

“Uh, all. Can I say all? It’s a little warm in here,” he says, pointedly ignoring the cameras facing him.

“Yeah.” Charlie’s smile is sheepish, sympathetic. “That’s the lights. They heat up the room. So where’s Cas?” she asks, nudging him with her elbow.

Dean checks his phone. No new texts, but the last one was only ten minutes ago. “He’s on his way,” he says, pocketing his phone. “So– what’s the deal, anyway? What am I doing? And why?”

“It’s a video. And it’s so Charlie and I can pass our film class.” Sam finally emerges from behind one of the cameras. “Dean, I already explained this to you. There’s about thirty questions. You take turns with Cas, asking them to each other. If either of you don’t want to answer them, take a shot.”

Dean eyes the bottles Charlie had laid out on the table a few steps behind him. There’s two bar stools across from each other. He thinks back to the mess in the apartment, evidence of Meg’s presence, and the fight he picked with Cas, and the last thing he said– and the way he feels. He can’t do this.

“Sam, listen, I don’t think this is gonna work.”

“Dean, come on!” Sam exhales sharply, frustrated. “I told you about this weeks ago. Just– ignore the cameras. Pretend we’re not here! It’s not a big deal. It’s like having a conversation with a friend. You know how to do that.” 

Charlie glances between them, chewing on her lip. She probably already figures it’s not stage fright that’s causing the cold feet. Dean opens his mouth, groping for an excuse, but the door to the studio opens, and Cas walks in.

The first thing he does is lock eyes with Dean, but instead of lingering as he usually does, he flits to Sam. It… stings.

“Hello, Sam, Charlie.” Cas hesitates. “Dean. Sorry, I'm late. I couldn’t find parking.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sam says, instantly going from pissed, whiny younger brother to gentle giant.

“Heya Cas, come on over here. Let’s get you suited up,” Charlie says, already fiddling with the mics. When Cas walks over obediently, Dean scoffs loudly and crosses his arms. They both turn to him.

“So– what now you don’t got a problem? You’re gonna do this?” Dean demands, anger simmering in his chest. He can’t just forget what happened. What he saw. Meg, all over Cas. Kissing him–

“I made a promise,” Cas says calmly. “I’m here to help my friends. I’m willing to be civil for their sake. Aren’t you?”

Dean’s seething on the inside all over again, but he rolls his eyes and walks to the table, flopping onto one of the stools. Charlie’s clearly dying to ask, but to her credit she keeps her mouth shut.

“This is the best idea you could come up with?” Dean asks, watching as Sam arranges the drinks, shot glasses, and question cards in front of him. “Why does it have to be roommates? Why not friends? Siblings?”

“It’s a series,” Sam huffs, brow furrowed. “We already did those. It’s like the one where the strangers kiss each other for the first time–”

“Wait, what?” Dean’s face heats up. His heart hammers, and he panics. He can’t kiss Cas. “There’s gonna be kissing? I didn’t sign up for that. We’re roommates, it’s gonna be weird–”

“There’s no kissing in this one,” Sam hisses, slapping a palm on the table. “Will you just calm down and stop making a big deal of it all?” He sighs and pushes a hand through his hair. “Dean, please. You know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

Dean breathes out sharply and sits down. “Fine, whatever.”

Two weeks ago, he’d volunteered himself and Cas to help Sam. It had been his idea. And at the time, it had seemed like a good one. And it still was. For Sam. For his class. Dean watches as Charlie attempts to tame Cas’ hair for a few seconds before giving up, and jogging back to join Sam behind the cameras.

“Okay… ready?” Sam asks. “And– we’re rolling.”

Dean’s mouth is dry. Suddenly, it’s just the two of them. In a quiet room. And it’s a little too warm. Cas blinks at him, and the moment of silence stretches out, snapping like a taut thread when he takes a breath.

“Wait, sorry, what do I do?” Cas asks, glancing at Sam.

“Pick up a card,” Dean says, beating Sam to the punch, and surprising himself. Cas moves his body to face Dean completely. Their knees brush under the table, and Cas scoots back on his stool so they’re not touching anymore. Dean sits still and ignores his bruised heart.

“Do we… introduce ourselves?”

“Sure,” Sam encourages from behind the camera. “That’d be great.”

“Okay. Um, I’m Castiel Novak, a graduate student. I’m working on a double masters in math and religious studies. I have five siblings, and I’m the second youngest. When I’m not working on my thesis, I enjoy running and knitting.” He lets out a breath softly. “How was that?”

Dean already knows all this. It sounds like something Cas would say on a blind date. Except, this isn’t that. It’s not a date. They would never be on a date. Despite that, and despite the fact that they’re fighting, he nods. It's just like Cas. Perfect. Nerdy. Fucking adorable.

“Great.” Sam gives him a thumbs up. “Dean?”

Dean heaves an exaggerated sigh before facing the camera. “I’m Dean. I’m the dumbass director’s older brother. I’m a mechanic–”

“Engineer,” Cas interrupts.

Dean ignores the stupid flutter in his chest. “Well, I fix cars.”

“You restore vintages,” Cas argues.

“Right,” Dean mutters, wiping a sweaty hand on his thigh as his heart pounds. “Anyway, well, that’s me. And,” he forces himself to look at Cas, who, of fucking course is looking back at him, wide-eyes and earnest. “We’re roommates.”

“How long?” Charlie pipes up. Dean jumps. He’d… forgotten she and Sam were still there.

Cas nods. “We have lived together for two years now.”

“And how has that been? Would you say you guys are friends?” Sam asks.

“Uh,” Dean starts stupidly. How were they gonna answer that one? Right now Cas probably hated him.

“I think it has been a good relationship,” Cas says, looking thoughtful. But he’s looking at Sam– at the cameras, when he answers. “I would consider Dean my friend. My best friend, actually. I think we care about each other a lot. Like any two people with different personalities who cohabit the same space we occasionally disagree, but I like living with Dean.” He turns to smile at Dean tentatively. “And I’d like to continue being roommates– and friends– for the foreseeable future.”

Dean blinks, stunned. He’s not sure how to respond to that. The tightly wound ball of anxiety in his chest loosens. “Right,” he says faintly. “What he said.”

Cas’ smile grows. “So, should we start asking the questions? Do you want me to go first?”

Dean shrugs. Cas breathes out slowly and picks up the first card. He frowns as he reads it, and his shoulders slump. 

“I already know the answer to this– anyway,” he sighs. “Have you ever disliked someone I dated?” 

Meg. Cas does know this. But… something makes Dean pause, even though he’s never cared before and been vocal about his dislike of her in the past. Maybe it’s the cameras. Maybe it’s the defeated slope of Castiel’s shoulders. 

“I’ll take a shot,” he says instead, reaching for the whiskey.

“Dean, you don’t have to,” Cas insists. “Honestly, it’s fine–”

“Hey, it’s free booze. ‘Kay? It’s no big deal.” Dean flashes him a smile, but it feels a little stiff. Cas relents.

He moves the card off the deck while Charlie asks, “Do you want a chaser? We have OJ, and pineapple juice.”

Dean pours the shot, considering the options. He hates pineapple if it’s not in a pina colada, but Cas doesn’t care for orange juice.

“Pineapple,” he says.

“Cheers,” he adds, before downing the shot. It’s been a while since he’s drunk hard liquor. The whiskey burns as it goes down, but fuzzes into a buzzing warmth as it sinks in.

“It’s your turn,” Cas prompts, looking at him. Into him.

Dean picks up the next card. He knows the answer already. “Have you ever had a crush on someone I’ve been with?”

Cas shakes his head. “No. We have different… types.”

“And preferences,” Dean adds, chest aching again. “Y’know, sexually.”

Cas looks down.

“Your turn,” Dean says, a touch bitterly. He hates this game already. Cas chews his lip as he picks up the next card.

“Can we– I think we should skip this one,” he says, mostly to Sam. “I feel it’s not fair. It’s too private.”

“It’s fine, Cas,” Dean says, with exaggerated patience. “It can’t be that bad. Just read the question.”

“Alright,” Cas huffs, clearly miffed. “Have you ever had a sex dream about me? What happened?”

Oh.

Oh.

Yeah. No. Now his face is on fire.

“These are biased against me,” Dean protests, already reaching for the whiskey before remembering he could’ve just lied. He could’ve just said no. Fucking hell. And now it’s on camera. And who the fuck knows is gonna see it, and–

“Dean.” Cas’ voice is firm. Grounding. “Pour me a shot, too.”

“But–”

“That way we start on the same page,” Cas explains, and it makes no sense. “Besides, like you said, it’s free.” Dean shakes his head, but obediently pours out a shot for Cas as well.

They clink glasses and swallow the liquor in unison. Cas exhales sharply, then clears his throat. His eyes are a little glazed, and his lips are shiny. He sips the small cup of pineapple juice slowly.

“Okay, moving on.” Dean drums his fingers on the table, and huffs incredulously when he reads the next card before tossing it aside. “What’s something you’d want to change about me? There’s probably a list for this right on the fridge next to the grocery list and the cleaning schedule.”

Cas puts his elbow on the table and his chin in his hand and peers at Dean. He’s staring. Dean fluffs his shirt in a pathetic attempt to dispel the heat.

And then, cheesy as can be, Cas says, “Nothing. You’re perfect the way you are, Dean.”

“Oh, so you like that I leave clean clothes in the dryer?”

“Yes.” Cas says, like it’s obvious. “Well, no, I don’t like that, but I like you. You are unique. And smart. And kind and generous and funny and warm. And you’re my friend. I wouldn't change anything about you.”

Dean’s pretty sure he’s too red to blame it on the heat or the drinking.

“Well, thanks,” he mutters, reaching for the next card, desperate to move on and regain his composure.

“Wait,” Cas says, stopping him with a hand over his. “It’s my turn.” He snags the card out of Dean’s fingers and reads, “What did you think of me when you first met me?”

“Um.” Dean draws back, scratching his cheek. He thinks back to the first time he met Cas. He’d been drunk and he’d been immediately interested in the broody, dark-haired hottie in the corner. He’d hit on Cas.

“I thought you were weird. In– in a good way. Different, I guess? And I thought you were a teacher, because you were talking about art history or something, and you were just– brilliant. You sounded really smart. A little snooty, even. I wanted to impress you, so I tried to pretend I knew what I was talking about. And even though it was bull, you listened. Like what I said mattered. And I thought you were fucking awesome for that. And then–” he tried to kiss Cas. But Dean doesn’t say that out loud. He looks down, and his clears his throat. “And the rest is history, y’know?”

When he looks up, Cas is smiling. It’s fond and nostalgic, and it makes Dean’s heart ache. “I remember that night.”

“Yeah,” Dean says. He picks up the next card and tosses it aside after reading it. “Who would you be most embarrassed to introduce me to and why?”

Cas blinks. “Why would I be embarrassed?”

“Cuz I'm an idiot.”

Now Cas looks mad. “Dean, stop. You’re not an idiot. You read Vonnegut for fun. You restore old cars to their prime. That takes intelligence. A lot of it. And you have it.”

“Alright, I dunno. Just– answer the question,” Dean huffs, flustered.

“No one,” Cas says firmly, and picks up the next card. “Have you ever caught me masturbating or having sex? What did you do?” For the first time since this started, Cas appears reluctant to meet Dean’s gaze.

“Well, it's not like I walked in on you. So I didn’t see anything. I just knew it was happening. And I left the apartment.” Dean runs a hand through his hair, trying to calm himself. Things feel awkward, and so Dean lashes out.

“Sam, what the hell is with these questions?”

“They’re standard. All the other coup– groups answered them,” Sam insists, defensive. “Just pick up the next card. Keep going.”

Cas looks uncomfortable, but not completely ready to leave, so Dean sighs and plays along.

“What do we– ugh I already know the answer.” Dean scrubs his face with both hands. “What do we always fight about?”

Cas purses his lips. “A person.”

“Your girlfriend.” Dean doesn’t mean to sound so bitter.

Cas’ shoulders hike up to his ears and he reaches for the next card. “I’m not having this conversation again, Dean.”

“What conversation? We never talk about this.”

“Alright, fine. Sam, I apologize for hijacking your project to hash this out. Since you’re determined, Dean, let’s sort this out once and for all. On the record. Now we’ll have it on tape as proof. Not that it really matters either way. She is not my girlfriend. We are friends. Close friends. But that’s all there is to it.”

Dean’s face burns. “Whatever. I don't care.”

“You do. It bothers you a lot. I know you don’t like her, but she’s never done anything to deserve it.”

“You don’t know her,” Dean snaps.

“I don’t?” Cas scoffs. “I practically grew up with her. You’re rude and belligerent to her all the time. Can you really blame her for responding in kind?”

Dean looks around for an escape. This whole conversation exposes him. Makes him sound like the jealous friend who’s hiding a crush poorly. And while that is true, he doesn't want it to come out like this. Not here. Not now. Maybe not ever.

“Is this done?” he asks, trying to get up. “I’m leaving. You’ve gotta have other friends that can do this, Sam. I already pay your bills. Don’t make me do your homework.”

Before Sam can start bitching and whining, Cas picks up the next card and asks, “What are some things I do to let you know I'm mad without actually saying anything?”

Dean fumes in silence for a moment before giving in.

“You…” he hesitates, and lets out a sigh. “You leave. The whole silent treatment thing. No texts, no emails. You just drop off the face of the planet for a few days. Used to scare the crap out of me.”

Still does, but like hell is he gonna admit that aloud right now. Though he has a horrible sneaking suspicion that he doesn't need to at this point. It’s probably clear as day. There’s a stricken sort of silence in the room.

“I’m sorry,” Cas says.

“S’okay,” Dean mumbles. “You always come back.” He sits and takes a drink even though it’s out of turn, and picks up a card. “If I killed somebody would you help me cover up?”

Cas doesn’t answer right away. He gets this squinty, faraway look in his eyes that usually means he's puzzling out a complicated equation for an assignment.

There’s about thirty seconds of dead air before Dean raps his fingers on the table to get Cas’ attention. “Cas, hey. Don't hurt yourself. Just take a drink.”

Cas blinks. “But I know the answer. I mean, I’m just thinking, because… well. The short answer is yes. I would. A part of me though, feels that there should be caveats. For instance, if it was cold-blooded murder, I’d like to believe I wouldn't.”

Dean processes this for a second, trying not to smile. “So you're saying you’d help me if it was like, a revenge murder, but not if I just did it to get my rocks off or something?”

“No, I’m saying I would. No matter what.” Castiel actually looks a little embarrassed. He clears his throat. “Not that there’s any reason to contemplate that because it’s impossible. You’re a righteous man, Dean. You would never hurt, much less kill, an innocent.”

“Well, shit.” Dean has no idea how to begin to handle this, so he falls back on an old defense. “You just– you pretty much blew our cover. Now they’ll know you’re an accomplice and we can never bury a body together.”

Charlie snorts.

Dean jumps, along with Cas. How did he forget they weren’t alone. He hears Sam hiss something angrily at Charlie and she looks sheepish but stays silent.

“Whose turn is it?” Cas asks.

“Yours,” Sam says.

Cas picks up a card. “This isn’t a question.”

“Just read it out anyway,” Dean says impatiently. 

“Finish this line with me. I’m most scared of…”

Dean thinks about it for a second. “Disappointing your family.”

“I suppose that’s true. They have very high expectations.”

“When was the moment we became best friends?”

Cas grins, and Dean realizes he’s a little tipsy. The grin turns into a chuckle and Dean finds himself smiling as well. He knows exactly what Cas is remembering.

“It was a few weeks after we first met. I was getting hazed and I didn’t know it.”

“This stupid religious literature club, or something. They took him to a strip club,” Dean grins. “He hated it. Poor guy looked like he’d shit his pants.”

Cas reaches over the table to shove him playfully. “I did not. But,” he admits. “I was extremely uncomfortable. And Dean rescued me.”

“He made a girl cry! By telling her he didn’t want to disrespect her.” Dean shakes his head, trying not to laugh.

“It wasn’t my intention to upset her.” Cas’ shoulders hunch defensively. “Anyway, Dean got me out of there. We got burgers. And we decided to room together. And I realized I’d found someone special that day.” 

Dean rolls his eyes, but he can feel a blush creeping up his neck.

“If someone offered you a million dollars to never talk to me again, would you take it?” he reads off the next card.

“Of course not.”

“Tsk, wrong answer. You should take the money and split it with me.”

Cas’ lips twitch but he doesn’t smile. He stares at the next card for a long moment.

“What’s my greatest asset, physically?” he asks, but he’s already beginning to fill Dean’s shot glass.

Your ass– but Dean knows he can’t say that out loud. Your lips, is definitely disqualified too. The sex hair. Nope. Can’t say that either.

“Just take the shot, Dean. We’ve already established we have very different preferences.”

“That’s not– I mean. You’re hot as fuck.” The words spill out before Dean means for them to. Damn Cas and his stupid way of pulling him into an argument. Dean rubs the back of his neck, knowing his face is aflame and coughs. “You’re… you look good, Cas. Your eyes. Those are some killer, uh, peepers.”

It’s true. And thankfully it’s also a good, somewhat safe answer. Oh, and Dean will take that shot after all. He deserves it now.

There’s two pink spots high on Cas’ cheeks. “It’s your turn,” he mumbles.

If Dean thought he was blushing before, the next card makes his face practically combust.

“Sam, this is insane. I’m not reading that– we’re not doing–Cas, no!” But it’s too late. Cas snags the card out of his hand. He reads it and drops it like it burns him.

“What’s it say?” Charlie asks.

“It doesn’t matter,” Dean growls.

“Fine,” Sam says. “Then just skip it.”

“How about we skip the whole–” Dean starts, hotly.

“What _would_ it take for us to have sex?” Cas interrupts.

“What? Why?” Dean stammers.

“You just said you found me attractive. When we first met you propositioned me.” Cas pauses, getting that far away, puzzle-solving look. “I always thought it was a drunken mistake on your part.”

Dean closes his eyes. This is so embarrassing. “I’m not answering that.”

“Dean… are you jealous of Meg?” Cas asks.

That does it.

“You might be hot but I don’t have to want to fuck you, you know?” Dean snaps. “You ever think of that?”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he regrets it. He can see the way the words land on Cas like a blow, crushing him.

Yes. He is jealous of her. He’s jealous of their easy friendship. The way she drawls his nickname – Clarence. They never fight. He can’t stand coming home and seeing them all snuggled up on the couch, watching Dr. Sexy together. It burns him up inside to even think of it. That ought to be him with Cas. His hands in Cas’ hair. His head in Cas’ lap. Because, well. He’s in love with Cas. And he has been from the first moment he saw the guy.

“I’m– I didn’t mean,” Dean starts. 

Cas stands up. He unhooks the mic from his lapel and pulls the battery pack out of his pocket, laying the whole thing on the table.

“I’m sorry, Sam. I hope you got something usable out of this,” he says.

“Cas, hold on,” Dean tries, his voice cracking.

Cas looks at him, but it’s a cold, flat look. “I shouldn’t have pushed you, Dean. I’m sorry.”

“No, stop.” Dean pleads. “Just shut up for a second. Just– hold on. I wasn’t trying to – fuck–” he grips his head, realizing that this was actually going to happen. He was going to say it. Finally.

“You were right. I’m… I’m jealous. I can’t stand it.” His voice cracks again. “Because– well, cuz, you’re mine. I mean, you’re not. I know that. I – I want you to be. With me.” He’s blabbering now, but he can’t seem to shut up. “I just. Jesus. I love you, Cas. I’m in love with you.” He exhales sharply. “But it can’t happen and it’s never gonna ‘cuz I keep fucking up–”

Cas walks past him, and Dean’s heart drops. He turns and sees Cas at the table, picking up a card from his discard pile. He tries to shove it in Dean’s hand.

“That’s the first card I picked up. I made up a different question. Read it.”

Dean blinks, thrown by this response, but he looks at the words on the card. “I already said that I did, Cas.”

“Read the card out loud, please.” Dean sighs.

“Do you love me? If yes, say it or take a shot.”

“I love you, Dean.” Cas steps into his space. “I’ve loved you from the first moment I saw you.” 

Time slows to a crawl as Dean tries to process what he’s just heard. Cas loves him.

 _Cas_ loves him.

Him.

“And now, Dean, I have a question for you.”

This close, Dean can see his eyelashes individually. He can smell Cas’ bodywash - the same one he sometimes sneakily uses so he can pretend it’s the smell of Cas’ skin lingering on him. And he can smell Cas’ breath, hot and sticky from the liquor and juice. Dean’s gaze drops to Cas’ mouth and he wets his lips, suddenly feeling parched.

“Shoot.”

Cas cups his cheek, forcing his gaze back up. “Can I kiss you?”

Instead of answering Dean closes the gap between them and does the only reasonable thing. He kisses Cas, and it’s like something out of a dream, but better. He feels like all the puzzle pieces of his life are slotting together, filling the empty spaces. He feels like he’s on fire, everywhere that Cas is touching him. There are two arms wrapped around him, fingers splayed at the small of his back. He kind of loses himself in the heady happiness of the moment.

Until someone clears their throat, and Cas springs back, startled. Full lips and cheeks flushed, dark hair mussed, eyes blown with lust and interest.

Fuck, he looks like a wet dream. Cas blushes some more, and Dean realizes he said that out loud.

“You guys know we’re still rolling, right?”

Dean whips his head to his shitty little brother. “Erase that footage!”

“You sure?” Charlie asks. “It’s pretty sexy. Even got _me_ a little hot and bothered.”

Dean lunges after them, but Cas grabs him by the lapels and drags him in for a kiss. He can hear Sam and Charlie scrambling to get their equipment unhooked and safely away from them but honestly, Dean doesn’t care anymore.

“Are we doing this?” Cas asks, when they come up for air. He looks a little afraid. Dean wants to wipe that look away forever. He winds his arms around Cas a little tighter and grins. 

“Yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo y’all hear there’s been a pandemic? In the two years since I last wrote, I fell in love, got broken up with and am no longer pre-diabetic. We out here! Gonna finish some old stuff (this is an old one that never got posted, but I dusted her off and cleaned some stuff up), post some NEW stuff, so if you’re a familiar (or new) face, say hi


End file.
